In Terran Years?
by Lollijoy
Summary: Peter finds out how old Rocket is. (Twoshot) (Currently being rewritten!)
1. No, in Xandarian Years

"Kraglin, could you watch over everything for a bit?" Peter asked, getting up from the co-pilot chair, "I need to use the can."

The Xandarian looked up at him with a cocked grin. "Drax and Mantis' stew not sitting right?" He chuckled, glancing back to the screen in front of him.

"You have no idea. Seriously, why we let them cook in the first place will forever haunt both my stomach and my mind."

"Well, I have everything alright up here," Kraglin snickered, "Go take your break."

"Thanks man." The Terran said, giving his friend a gracious smile, before quickly walking out of the cockpit.

He began his long journey to the Quadrant's only bathroom, his walk eventually turning into a jog.

The Guardians of The Galaxy's last vessel, The Milano, had been left back on Berhert. Rocket was supposed to get it back and running, but everything with Ego happened, and they were still at square one. They were still a few cycles away from Berhert, where they were planning on finally fixing the poor ship. Peter felt jittering in his stomach at the thought of losing The Milano for good, that it may be too far gone to patch up, but that might of been the stew. He picked up his pace even more, and finally reached the lavatory.

The closet sized room had one rusty sink, a large metal tub, and a small bronze bowl attached to a pipe at knee level.

 _God, if I had a unit every time I missed Earth toilets._

On the sink's counter, mysterious black goo dripped down the side of the ball; a large clump of fur stuck in the slime. Peter sighed. _Let's get this over with._

Peter began the trek back to the cockpit, going much slower thanks to the disappearance of Mantis and Drax's dinner in his stomach.

 _Southern nights  
have you ever felt a southern night?  
Free as a breeze  
not to mention the trees  
Whistling tunes that you know and love so._

Peter paused, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

 _That's weird, I didn't leave my music on, did I? No, I'm sure I turned it off before I started my flying shift with Kraglin._

Following his tunes with a confused frown on his face, Quill was led to the portside airlock. He felt a shiver go up his spine when he realised this was where he said goodbye to Yondou. Shaking his head, he following the hallway further until stopping at his destination.

A panel was removed from the wall, and alongside the furry feet poking out of said wall, it was clear who was listening to his music.

It looked like Rocket was fixing something inside the ship; his tools scattered around in the walkway. Peter gazed down his fellow Guardians, his eyes eventually spotting his Zune. It was attached to a mysterious lumpy black box by Rocket's feet.

Southern Nights by Glen Campbell blasted from the device. _Did Rocket rig up a speaker or something?_

Somehow through the noise of the raccoon banging away in the hull, and the sound of Campbell's voice, Peter noticed Rocket singing along; his little paws bouncing with the beat.

" _Southern nights  
Just as good even when closed your eyes  
I apologize…_" Rocket sung, his rough voice echoing around Peter. A bang erupted from the hole in the wall, making a furry paw reach back outside to get a wrench.

"Hey, Rocket!" Peter said, nudging his leg through the navy jumpsuit.

"SHIT!" The Raccoon cursed; the sound of a furry head banging against a pipe and tools falling into the structure of the ship made Peter step away; a grimace on his face.

Rocket slithered out, groaning in pain, before glaring at the Terran.

"For Gideon's sake, what the flying FLARK QUILL," He groaned while putting his paws on his forehead, it looked like a knot was already forming, "You can't sneak up on someone like that!"

"I was just coming down here to find out who stole my Zune," Peter rolled his eyes, an unimpressed frown on his face. Rocket peered at the music player with a frustrated look, his face burning under his fur.

"If you wanted it back you could've just taken it and left! It's a freaking worthless distraction anyway." The Halfworlder growled, his vision still clouded in darkness from hitting his head.

"Hate to break it to you, but it looked like you were enjoying yourself." Peter had a shiteating smirk on his face as he looked down at him. The Terran cleared his throat, before beginning to sing from where Rocket left off.

 _"I apologize  
To anyone who can truly say  
That he's found a better way...  
Southern skies-"_

Rocket grabbed the Zune and threw it at Peter, one of his paws still on his throbbing head. Starlord cursed at the sight of one of his most beloved possessions flying through the air. Luckily, he was able to catch it; glaring at Rocket while doing so.

"If you wanted me to stop singing you could've just said-"

"Take your shit and leave, Quill."

"Since you asked so politely…" The human frowned, hesitating, before walking back to the cockpit with the Zune tight in his grip.

Rocket slid down till he was laying on the floor, both hands on his forehead.

"Shit…" He grimaced in pain, a migraine already blossoming in his parietal.

 _Stupid Quill._

* * *

The Quadrant's kitchen was absolutely disgusting. Everything was either metal, rusted, or black. Even the countertops were just pieces of copper jutting out of the walls. Currently, Mantis was ladling a warm brown sludge into seven bowls for breakfast. They've had the same soup for over a week now, much to everyone's distaste.

"Where is the angry puppy?" Mantis asked Peter, her large eyes were filled with worry. Peter reached over to grab the bowl she was holding.

"I bet he's still sulking about last night, I scared him pretty bad," Peter said, putting the bowl down carefully, "His tail was fluffed up huge, you should've saw it." He joked while Mantis laughed uncontrollably.

Drax and Gamora walked into the large room, both simultaneously sitting down at the rickety metal table.

"Kraglin has been flying all night, it's time for Rocket's shift," Gamora said calmly, "Is he still in his room?"

"This is unlike him." Drax added.

"Yeah Yeah, I'll go get him." Peter sighed, handing out two bowls for them before making his way to Rocket and Groot's room.

When he got there, he pressed the button to open Rocket's room, and stepped in.

Carefully jumping over bags of soil and bombs, he made his way to the raccoon's cot. Rocket seemed to be curled up in the corner, his fur covered pillow pressed over his head.

Learning from yesterday's mistakes, he gently poked him.

"Ugh… g-go away Asslord." The small mammal mumbled into his pillow.

"Kraglin and I have been up all night piloting the ship, it's your shift."

"I'd rather suck Drax's sensitive nipples than get out of bed right now," Rocket hissed, "Thanks to _you_ , I have the worst migraine."

"First off, ew, why would you even say that. Secondly, everyone has to do it, man. I can get you some pain meds if you want, but... if you think I can handle flying this ship better than you right now, you can sleep."

Rocket thought about what Peter said before sighing.

"I could fly this rig better than you with my eyes closed." Rocket mumbled, sitting up, his head in his paws. Peter bent down, grabbed a semi-clean jumpsuit, and handed it to Rocket.

"I doubt it, but okay," Peter snickered, glad he was able to get him up. _That always seems to do the trick_. "I'll meet you in the kitchen."

Quill stepped out of the room, and walked over to the Med bay.

It was a room with a comfy bed, alongside cabinets filled with various amounts of medical supplies. Peter grabbed a bottle of pills, barely glancing at the label, before heading back to the kitchen.

Gamora and Drax had finished their food and were now cleaning their respective weapons; while Mantis was coming back from the cockpit from giving Kraglin his weird ass stew. Peter was surprised to already see Rocket in the room. _His head is on the table and he's snoring, but I guess he technically still here._

"I got the medicine," Peter said, startling Rocket awake, "Uh.. how old are you?"

"Why'd you care?" Rocket mumbled, rubbing the drool off his face.

"I want to give you the correct amount, this shit-" He shaked the bottle, "-Goes by age. Even though we fight all the time, I'd hate to poison you."

Rocket snorted, "Heh, I'm glad you care." He said sarcastically, before hesitating. "...I think I'm twenty something."

"In Xandarian years?"

"No, in Sovereign years! Of course flarkin Xandarian years," Rocket growled, " _Stupid humie.._ " He added under his breath.

Mantis drew a glass of water, leaving it beside the raccoon's head with a soft smile on her face.

Peter shaked one pill out of the bottle and cut it in half, sliding it across the table to Rocket. As he swallowed the pill with a gulp of water; Peter started counting his fingers, trying to convert Rocky's age to Terran years. It was tricky math, but he had gotten used to doing it over the years. Mostly to check if any lady he was planning to hook up with would technically be a child by Earth years. It was a morality issue.

"Wow, those work quickly." Rocket said, impressed, looking at the bottle's small label with squinted eyes.

"Pup! I got your meal for you!" Mantis sat down beside him with both of their bowls, an innocent smile on her face. Rocket, sighing, put down the bottle, before beginning to sniff his breakfast.

"Stew again!? Why do we even eat this? It looks like shit-" Gamora kicked him underneath the table, causing Rocket to wince. They glared across at each other, but eventually, Gamora won the silent argument. Rocket sighed in defeat, before glancing at Mantis with a fake smile, "I mean… thanks uh… doll?"

That seemed to please Mantis, as she went back to her stew.

Rocket grumbled sadly, before leaning forward in his chair, slurping up the chunky brown liquid.

Peter sat down in his chair, still trying to convert the number.

 _Minus that then you divide and- ...wait a fucking second..._

"Hey Drax, pass the sodium, will ya-

Peter gasped and jumped up from his chair, interrupting Rocket.

"Why didn't you tell me?!" Peter said with wide eyes, mouth agape.

"Tell you what?" Rocket's ears flattened in annoyance, glaring up at him.

"That you're _five_ in Terran years!" Peter exclaimed.

Rocket stopped eating his soup and gave him a weird look. He gave his brain time to process what Peter yelled at him, and when he finally did, he snorted.

"Calm your ass down, Quill. So what if I'm five in your weird flarkin calendar," Rocket sneered, "You're probably no better, you can't be that old."

"Dude, you do realize I'm thirty six in Terran, right?"

Rocket paused for a second, but slowly and surely his eyes started to widen as well.

"Wait a second, you're one hundred and forty four in Xandarian?!" Rocket raised an eyebrow at the Terran, before beginning to snicker, "Explains why you're such a party pooper, old man."

Drax opened his mouth to question Rocket's phrase, but stopped himself when he saw the rest of the team glare.

"I'm not a party pooper! You do realize humans your age still think babies come from belly buttons!?" Peter exclaimed.

Rocket's ears flattened and he stood up from the table

"Makes sense, humies are dumbasses," Rocket sighed, his nose twitching, "I'm gonna go do my shift."


	2. Who's Lylla?

**Hey, I'm back to finish this two shot! I'm thinking of adding my version of Rocket's backstory in the form of a timeline in the next, and probably final chapter. I don't know, we'll see! Please enjoy this hastily written drabble.**

Peter knocked on Gamora's door, peeking his head into her room.

"Gamora?"

"Yes Peter?" She sighed while sitting on her bed, reading something on her holographic tablet.

"Is it alright if I take your copilot shift tonight?" He asked jarring the door open more. Gamora looked up at him with an odd look.

"I thought you had your shift last night?"

"I did but," Peter paused for a second, licking his lips, "Rocket will be piloting and I need to talk to him."

Gamora stood up and walked over to him, her head slightly cocked.

"You don't 'need' to do anything, Peter," She said while looking straight into his sapphire eyes. It made the human back out of the room a little, "However, I appreciate you asking politely and will allow you to have my shift." She turned around and sat back on her bed, making him release the breath he was holding.

"Thanks Gam."

Peter closed the door and headed to the kitchen to make coffee. He was going to be exhausted tonight but he decided it was worth having a chat with Rocket. Thinking about yesterday morning hurt his mind. To learn his trash talking friend was the age of a kindergartener, to say it lightly, shocked him. Hell, this afternoon when they stopped at a bar to get a drink; Peter blew his lid when he found the raccoon slurping down some weird ass beverage. He was five for pete's sake!

Still, he had to remember this was space and not Terra. Rocket was definitely smarter than a little kid and he sure didn't act like one. Peter was disappointed. The tales his friend had spun made it seem he had years and years of wacky adventures to tell. He put his hand on a counter, steadying himself. That means he has broken out of twenty three prisons in a span of five years. Which ALSO meant that Groot and Rocket have only been friends for approximately less than five years; they made it seem like they've known each other for way more than that. Every one of the Guardians had reasons to end up the way they were. Drax's wife and daughter was murdered by Ronan, Gamora family was killed in front of her, then she was proceeded to be taken away and raised as an assassin, Groot was… Groot; but really, Peter hardly knew Rocket's past.

Peter jumped when he heard clawed feet scratch against the metal floor. Speak of the devil; he turned around and saw the man of the hour entering the room.

"Ey Quill, y'know where Gamora is," the raccoon yawned, leaping onto the table to get a cup of joe, "I just found Kraglin asleep in the copilot's chair when I went to take dump. I need her to take over for him."

"Actually Gamora and I switched shifts." Peter answered, scratching his arm nervously. Rocket put down the coffee pot and turned back to him.

"Why?"

"I… didn't feel like sleeping and Gamora was tired, even though she wouldn't admit it, so we switched." The Terran lied through his teeth. Rocket glared at him before shrugging.

"Alright, I left it on autopilot, but this hunk of metal can't drive itself for too long." He jumped off the counter and scurried up the ladder to the cockpit; Peter following after him. Rocket climbed into the pilot chair and adjusted himself; he switched autopilot off and took control of the ship. Quill set himself in the co chair, clicking his seatbelt across his chest.

"How many jumps can we make tonight?" Peter asked, turning a small red knob on the control panel.

"I haven't had the chance to fix this rust bucket up fully yet, I say we got a couple before it goes to shit." Rocket replied, leaning on his hunches so he could reach a couple switches far away. Peter slowly moved his hand towards the lever which would let him pilot the ship fully. The furred mammal growled and glanced at his hand.

"If ya wanna keep that, I suggest you put it away." He muttered, the human laughed nervously and left the lever alone.

They flew in silence for a couple hours, making small jumps when needed. Peter felt close to death after two hours of flying, his body praying for sleep. He groggily looked over at Rocket; wondering if he was also tired. Rocket was lazily lying in the pilot chair, one paw on the control wheel. He looked bored, his brown eyes half lidded, but he didn't look tired.

"How aren't you tired, man?" Peter asked, shocked. Rocket sat up in his chair, probably realizing his friend was still there.

"What time is it?"

"Uh… it's 1:30 in the morning, Xandarian time." He answered, confused.

"Well, that sorta explains why I ain't tired," Rocket muttered, "I usually can't fall asleep around this time, something I've always had."

Peter paused, trying to think back to the things he learned Earth. Are raccoons nocturnal, or at least more active at night? Hell if he knew. He didn't voice his concerns.

Picking at his cuticle nervously, the Terran decided to get the conversation over with.

"Yesterday was crazy," Peter said, "I can't believe you're only five years ol-"

"I'm twenty, Quill," Rocket interrupted, "I don't go by your dumbass Terran calendar."

"That's… what I meant," He laughed sheepishly, "So… does that mean you've broken out of twenty three prisons in fiv- twenty years?" Peter asked, mildly impressed. Rocket's eyes still looking out the window, he shrugged.

"Life goes by fast when you're three feet tall."

"How the fuck can you even break out of that many prisons dude, even by my standards that's insane." Peter exclaimed, looking over to see Rocket snickering.

"Two things you have to have," He said, putting two of his clawed fingers up, "One, you need to be really fucking smart, like me. Two, as much as I hate to admit it, somebody else."

"What'd you mean?"

"A person who's got your back. Someone to cover you when you're turning off the life support systems, y'know?"

"I'm guessing Groot was your number two for all of those breakouts, right?" Peter said, checking a screen on his right to make sure they were on course. Only seventy four more hours till they reach The Milano. Rocket checked his own to mark sure his co pilot didn't jack things up.

"Not for all of them, no," He said, "A couple I had help on the inside, while some of my first escapes were with Lylla-" Rocket immediately paused, his breath hitched in his chest. Peter's eyes widened.

"Who's Lylla?" He asked quietly, noticing how his friend was trying to recover from his slip up.

"She was… a friend from a long time ago, not important."

Peter's eyes widened and a large grin appeared on his stubbly face.

"Is she your girlfriend-"

"Shut up Quill."

"You don't seem like the romance type-"

" I SAID SHUT THE FUCK UP, PETER," Rocket yelled, his paws gripping the pilot chair, ripping the cheap fabric. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the cushion, sighing, "Lylla is not your concern, let's just get back to flying or whatever."

Peter flinched at the acid covered words, but didn't say anything. They flew for a couple awkward minute before Rocket sighed and looks over at his co pilot.

"Was." His friend whispered.

"What did you say?"

"She was my friend."

Peter swallowed and looked away from Rocket, his hand reaching for a knob on the control panel.

"W-we'll be making a jump in three... two... and one."


End file.
